


The Best Part

by platinum_firebird



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23268205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinum_firebird/pseuds/platinum_firebird
Summary: You're the coffee that I need in the morningYou're my sunshine in the rain when it's pouringA lazy Sunday breakfast together.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	The Best Part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [krystian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystian/gifts).



> Title and quote from [Best Part by H.E.R. ft. Daniel Ceasar,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBy7FaapGRo) which is very much the mood for this fic :)

Bokuto still wakes up at six, despite the alarm not going off - turns out several years’ worth of habit is hard to break. For a minute he thinks about having to get up and dressed for his morning run, reluctance etched so deep into him it feels like it’s in his very bones. It’s early December, and the weather outside will be frigid.

But then the warm, soft weight next to him shifts slightly, hot breath brushing his ear, and Bokuto relaxes with a smile, remembering.

It’s Sunday, and Sunday is rest day, especially during the off-season. Especially when he’s here, at home.

He turns his head and presses a kiss to Akaashi’s forehead, tightening his arm slightly around his slim shoulders. Akaashi doesn’t stir, still completely dead to the world, and Bokuto lets his own eyes slip closed again, breathing out a deep, contented sigh. Sunday mornings are the best mornings.

Akaashi wakes him later with a kiss on the forehead and a gentle shake of his shoulder. “I’m making breakfast,” he says, smiling as Bokuto blinks up at him from underneath the blanket, “Come on, sleepyhead.”

Bokuto grumbles, not quite ready to trade the warmth of the blanket for the colder air of the apartment, but soon enough the smell of grilling fish wafts in from the kitchen, drawing him out of bed. He stumbles, still half-asleep, down the hallway and into their small kitchen, where Akaashi is in front of the stove, spatula in hand. Bokuto goes over and rests his forehead on Akaashi’s shoulder, slipping his arms around Akaashi’s waist. Akaashi doesn’t comment, and they stay like that for a while, the only sound the pop and hiss of the fish cooking on the grill. Bokuto closes his eyes and breathes in deep, inhaling Akaashi’s soft scent, mixed with a tang of cooking mackerel so strong it makes his mouth water.

“If you’re not going to help me cook, you could at least make the coffee,” Akaashi says after a while. He’s clearly trying to sound annoyed, but Bokuto can hear the thread of fond affection that winds through his voice.

“I like it here,” Bokuto says into Akaashi’s shoulder.

“And I like coffee,” Akaashi says.

Bokuto groans, but he presses a kiss to the side of Akaashi’s neck and then moves away toward the coffee machine. As it rumbles into life, Bokuto turns his head to look at Akaashi in profile; the curve of his nose, the sweep of his eyelashes, the way he bites on his lip in concentration. Bokuto sidles over, and Akaashi pretends not to notice him doing it, not until he slides his arms around Akaashi’s waist and rests their heads together. Then he simply lifts one hand and lays it on Bokuto’s forearm, squeezing it gently.

Bokuto doesn’t need to say _I missed you_ aloud, and neither does Akaashi. Both of them hear the other say it - in the way that Bokuto spends every spare second pressed close, and in the way that Akaashi doesn’t shrug him off, even he moves to get his coffee and prepare other parts of the meal. They only separate when it comes time to carry it all out into the dining room.

Bokuto snuggles under the kotatsu’s heavy blanket with an appreciative hum. “Ah, I’m starving,” he moans, piling fish and eggs onto his plate.

Akaashi stops to turn the radio on as he leaves the kitchen. His favourite station plays old traditional songs on a Sunday morning, and they both listen in comfortable silence as soft strains of music and a woman’s voice fill the air.

Later they’ll talk more - about what to do today, about where they’ll be next week, about their friends and their families, about what’s next for Bokuto’s team, maybe, or about where to go for New Years. Later Bokuto will pick up on the messages he can hear arriving on his phone, from where he left it buzzing on the kitchen counter top. Later maybe they’ll go shopping, or walking, or out for dinner. Maybe they’ll stay in and watch a movie.

But that’s later. For now, Bokuto needs nothing more than the two of them, the breakfast they’re sharing, the sound of soft music and rain against the window. He needs nothing more than the sight of Akaashi across the table, eating in his slow, considered way, closing his eyes to listen to the music. He needs nothing more than this; nothing more than home.

Bokuto smiles as he looks back down at his plate. Sunday mornings are the best mornings of the week, and this quiet, content breakfast together - that’s the best part of Sunday morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Best Part [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129919) by [platinum_firebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/platinum_firebird/pseuds/platinum_firebird)




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